Coming Full Circle
by ackeberlynn
Summary: What should have happened after Season 6's "Revelations".  I've decided to make this into a multi-chapter fic.  How will they heal from the many tragedies that have befallen them in the span of a few short years?  Or is it too much?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: This is my version of how it should have gone when Bosco went to Faith asking for help in season 6's "Revelations". Too much was left unsaid.

I know there are plenty of post/missing scenes/rewrites out there - this is my version. There are lots of references to prior conversations between Bosco and Faith - if you watch the show you'll recognize them. ;)

Please review - I love hearing from readers.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing in regards to Third Watch. Or the song.

* * *

"**If You Ever Did Believe" – Stevie Nicks**

**You've left me now,  
And it's seasoned my soul  
And with every step you take,  
I watch another part of you go...**

**

* * *

**  
_"Bosco, that's not fair,"_ she's says, and something inside of him bursts.

He came here desperate – more desperate than he's probably ever been. And she doesn't get it.

This has been tearing him apart for weeks now, a churning, raging, fire in his gut.

Because he used to be an "expert marksman", and now he'd be lucky to hit the broadside of a building.

He used to be a lot of things.

His recent eye troubles, along with his bum leg, the aches and phantom pains, the plaguing nightmares, and the horrific scar covering the right side of his face, altogether make him feel like half the man he used to be.

And if this is the payoff for surviving, he's not so sure he'd rather not be dead.

It is this thought that drives him to Faith's door.

He's never been suicidal – not even with the PTSD. He's always considered himself above it.

But he's been reduced to a shell of a man, and tonight he feels like he's at the end of his rope.

If he can't requalify, he can't be a cop anymore. And this terrifies him, because he has nothing else.

He's overwhelmed with a sense of doom, because he knows he only has two options.

Either cheat and have Faith shoot for him, or do it the hard way and risk losing everything.

He can't handle anymore hard things right now. He can't stand to lose anything else.

"_I need someone to shoot for me."_

Cheating is beneath him, he knows. He tells himself he'd never really do it, but he can't get it out of his head.

He knows he's weak, so he runs to the one person who can be strong for him.

"_Bosco, I can't do that."_

He didn't honestly believe she'd shoot for him, not really. But he certainly didn't expect her to be so calm about it…so…clinical.

What angers him is not so much what she says, but what she does _not_ say.

"_You don't understand…" _he says, standing to pace. He has to pace, lest he crumble before her.

"_I-I'm not gonna sit behind a desk for the rest of my life. It's not gonna happen. So I'm asking you…everything that we've been through together." _

"_You're not thinking straight. I'm gonna tell you right now: you do _not_ want to do this."_

"_It's all I got! If I don't get back on…what am I supposed to do?"_

He wants her to fight for him, like she has so many times before. He wants her to yell at him, try and knock some sense into him. He wants her to save him from this – from himself, like she has so many times before.

But she doesn't fight. She just accepts it.

It's the _"there are plenty of jobs you can do down at the department"_ that pushes him over the edge.

She's misread him entirely, and somehow this is going all wrong.

He can't read the looks she's giving him. They used to be able to "talk without talking". They were once two halves of the same whole. Now they've been torn asunder, and it cuts him like a knife.

"_No, I need to be in the radio car…answering calls…it's what I do. It's what I'm good at. It's what I do!"_

If they were still partners, if she was still counting on him to have her back, she'd fight for him. But now that she's a detective, she doesn't need him. She won't ever be in that RMP with him again, so it matters so much less to her.

She's left him behind.

That she can dismiss him so quickly with an, _"I can't help you,"_ so cold…so detached, is unthinkable.

They used to finish each others' sentences, but now she's a stranger to him.

Pulling out all the stops, he does the unimaginable.

"_I saved your life that night – and you won't do this for me?"_

He hates himself in that moment, for his weakness. For making it sound like he was keeping score, like saving her life meant she owed him something. He hates himself for the shocked, hurt look she gives him as the ugly words pour off of his tongue.

"_You're gonna sit there, and you're gonna look at me, and you're gonna tell me that you won't shoot a damn target?"_

She's right – he isn't thinking straight.

This is his darkest moment, and he's counting on her to be the light.

"_Out of all people I thought that I could – I could come to you."_

He is drowning, and she's his only lifeline. He waits expectantly for her rescue.

"_Bosco, that's not fair."_

Something inside of him bursts, then dies. He has nothing left. He tried to reach her, but she remains far removed from him. She doesn't care.

He wants to cry – but anger is easier.

He laid himself bare before her, and she turned him away.

He's been rejected. And it hurts.

"_To hell with you,"_ he tells her, and now he doesn't care about her feelings, because she's already trampled all over his.

"_No, to hell with you,"_ he says again, more forcefully.

"_Bosco!"_ She calls after him, but he has to leave before he breaks.

* * *

**I continue to build a wall,  
You were so strong  
I fell to my knees,  
And I don't think I can handle this at all...**

It's the look he gives her before slamming the door that Faith can't get out of her mind.

He looked…wild, almost. It scares her, what he might do in this state. She won't be able to sleep tonight, after this.

For the life of her she can't understand where the conversation went wrong, but she's left feeling angry and wounded. It _wasn't_ fair, what Bosco asked her to do.

Asking her to shoot for him…how stupid and selfish can he be?

_"You're not thinking straight..."_

_"It's all I got!"  
_

In the end, it's her fear that leads her to put on her coat and head out into the cold night, heading toward his apartment.

* * *

**One more night  
I'd like to lie and hold you,  
Yes and feel  
To make you smile,  
I'd like to be there for you,  
Have you forgotten me?  
**

He's so lost in his grief he doesn't notice her until she's sitting next to him on the steps of his apartment complex.

Frantically, he wipes the sleeve of his coat across his wet face.

"Go home, Faith. I got nothing more to say to you."

"Yeah, well I'm not finished."

"Look, I already heard you loud and clear. I'm done."

"How dare you?" She seethes, and the shakiness of her voice causes him to finally look at her.

"You saved my life that night. You did. And I can never repay you or thank you enough. But you seem to forget, or maybe you can't remember – that _I_ saved _your_ life that night, too!" She's crying now.

Bosco ducks his head in shame. He feels like an ass.

No…he _is_ an ass.

"Faith…."

"Don't! How can you be so selfish? _I_ was the one sitting in that room, trying to stop you from bleeding to death. _I_ was the one who had to listen to you choke on blood every time you breathed. And _I_ was the one who started CPR when you finally stopped! Make no mistake, that _I_ saved _your_ life that night!" Her voice has risen to the point where her vocal chords are straining, and she pants with the effort of yelling through her sobs.

"Faith…."

"I thought you _died_ Bosco. I thought you died…did you ever think of how that felt for me? I…I nearly went crazy. I had to tell your mom, who was laying up in ICU, that you'd been shot. I had to tell your mom, Bosco! And then, all I could think about was Mann, and how he killed you…and I…I…."

She's sobbing so hard that it scares him, and he tentatively turns and wraps his arms around her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…."

"I took care of him for you," she muffles into his coat, and he freezes. "Do you remember that?"

"What?"

"I…Mann…I told you I took care of him for you," she wipes the back of her hand across her cheek as she speaks. "Because I thought he'd killed you. That's what I did for _you_, Bosco." And she pulls away from him roughly, her voice bitter.

He's staring at her in shock. "But I thought…Cruz…."

She laughs, a hollow sound that makes him flinch. "She was actually gonna bring him in. He was cuffed, already in custody." She shakes her head at the memory, eyes distant. "I shot him until my gun was empty."

"Faith…." His tone is one of concern, because he doesn't like her words.

"They gave me immunity. That's why I'm here and not in Rykers." She sniffs and looks down at her shoe, strands of blonde hair falling to hide her face. "It's a long story."

"Why are you telling me this?" He suddenly demands, frustrated now because he doesn't know how to feel about this new information.

Her green eyes flash with indignation. "Because you seem to think you're the only one who's been affected by this, that you're the only one who's made sacrifices."

"Sacrifices? _Sacrifices_?" He spits the word back at her angrily, face scrunched up in anger and confusion.

"Do you realize how much that bastard took from me?" He all but shouts, standing abruptly.

"Of course I..."

"No! I don't think you do!" He cuts her off with a stab of his finger.

"You want to talk to me about what's fair? Y-You want to try and tell me that what I asked you wasn't fair? What the hell do you know about what's fair?"

"Bosco…."

"No, I listened to you; now you're gonna hear me." He pauses and looks away, swallowing hard before he can continue.

"He killed my brother…he almost killed my mother…he damn near killed me…and now he's this close," he hisses, holding up pinched fingers, "to taking my job, the only thing I got left."

**And the days go by,  
Doing nothing about them  
How much time,  
Will I have to spend?**

"Twelve months in that hospital…twelve months of my life…gone. And I'm trying to claw my way back to where I was before all this, to be the same man, and I don't know if I can do it. Hell, even if I get back on the force, it's not like it'll be the same." He shoots her a pointed glare, eyes tinged with sorrow and something she recognizes as betrayal.

"I mean…do you remember, Faith…when you called me to the diner, the night before you were supposed to come back to work after…." He trails off, not needing to explain the 'after'.

"_Kinda surprised you called."_

"_I'm coming back to work tomorrow."_

"_Really."_

"_Yeah. The department doctors say there's no medical reason why I can't."_

"_So you're alright?"_

"_According to the doctors."_

"_So, you're not alright."_

"You said that they wanted you to get counseling, but you didn't want it in your file…."

"That isn't the same thing, Bosco…."

"Oh, the hell it isn't, Faith! You knew you weren't better, but you came to me anyway."

"_If I'm coming back, I'm coming back all the way."_

"Bosco, if you can't _see_ straight, you'll get yourself killed out there," she retorts defensively. "I can't live with that!"

He stares at her, eyes narrowing, then steps in her personal space. When he speaks his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Faith…if your head isn't in the game, you'll get yourself killed out there faster. Do you remember what I said to you? Huh?"

"_I can't do it. I can't handle the responsibility anymore." _

"_What responsibility?"_

"_You. For whether or not you get hurt."_

"_You don't have to be responsible for me."_

"_If we're partners – yes. I am."_

"I didn't think it was a good idea to partner up again. I knew you weren't 100 percent. But I did it anyway, for you. Because it's what you needed. Because we're partners."

_"I'm your partner. I was there for you. I'll always be there for you."_

She's shaking her head before he finishes the sentence. "I won't shoot for you, Bosco. Don't ask me again, because I won't do it."

"Because it's not _fair_ Faith? At least you had a partner to come back to!"

She softens then, as he turns away from her. She stares at him, huddled next to her in his winter coat, the breath escaping his mouth in clouds of warm fog.

He's still way too thin, far from gaining back the twenty or so pounds lost in the hospital. His eyes are suspiciously bright, sunken, and rimmed with the dark shadows of fatigue. From the anxious, absentminded way he's rubbing his thigh she can tell his leg is bothering him.

He's fragile…more vulnerable than she's ever seen him, and she is filled with the sudden longing to hold him in her arms.

**My mind won't rest,  
And I don't sleep  
Not even in my dreams...**

"Everything's changed, you know? I just feel like it's all slipping away from me," he quietly admits.

Wordlessly, she wraps her arms around him, and he hesitates only a moment before laying a weary head on her shoulder.

Rubbing his back, she whispers the words he needed to hear an hour ago.

"It's gonna be alright, Bos. I'm not gonna leave you. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

He lets out a hapless sob, clinging to her with all his strength.

**If you ever did believe,  
For my sake  
If you ever did believe...**

"I really need you, Faith," he whimpers in her ear. "I don't have anyone…God help me, I don't have anyone else."

"_Because you're the only one. Faith, I don't have anyone else."_

"Shhh. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Slowly it dawns on her that he's shivering against her, and that his still-healing body probably shouldn't be out in the cold.

"Come on, let's go upstairs," she says quietly, leading him inside to his apartment.

They get inside, and she can tell he's exhausted by the bleary look in his dark eyes. She kicks off her shoes, dropping her coat on a chair, then grabs his hand and leads him back to his bedroom.

"What are you….?"

"Shhh…."

Slowly, she takes off his coat, then bends down to pull off his shoes. Her touch is so tender that it leaves him speechless.

"I have to use your bathroom," she whispers, simultaneously handing him a pair of sweatpants.

By the time she returns he is changed.

He watches, mesmerized, as she crawls under the covers, and then reaches for him, arms outstretched.

"Come here."

"Faith…I…you…."

"Shhh…just come here."

He scoots next to her with a sigh, surprised when she wraps her warm arms around him, snuggling up to his body.

"Relax. Just relax. We'll worry about the rest of it tomorrow."

Her soft breaths lull him into a painless, dreamless slumber.

**Ooo…Baby don't leave me,  
Ooo…I'm down on my knees  
Begging you please,  
Baby don't leave me  
Did you ever believe?**

**

* * *

**End.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: I decided to make this story more than a one-shot. A specific plot idea came to me, and I'm going to run with it. I'm not sure whether this will turn into a B/F Shipper fic or not. I've never written one before, and I'm not sold on the idea. They can be tender, intimate even - but can they realistically be together? I'm not sure. There's a lot of water under the bridge. Either way, be rest assured that this will not be [merely] a romance and it will involve many other character from the show as well, just like a normal episode of TW. Reviews are like cherished jewels, and I thank you for them. ;)

Oh and...let me know about the songs - like, don't like? I want to make sure they add to the story, rather than distract.

This one is a little short, but definitely worth it.

**Warning** –please read-:

I took some liberties in this chapter to write about 9/11.

I wasn't there (in NY), and I was young when it happened. (I was sitting in my 8th grade pre-algebra class when I heard that a plane hit the WTC, and I didn't even know what the WTC looked like.)

I've always admired the creative and respectful way _Third Watch _handled the tragedy. I hope that my writing about it in this story reflects the immense respect I have for all the emergency personnel, survivors, and ones lost on that day.

**Disclaimer **- I own not the song nor the characters.

**Chapter 2**: More Setbacks

* * *

**"Taking On Water" - John Mayer**

**On a sailboat I am, slowly floating nowhere,  
Lost in memories of, where I am and why  
Black ocean churning , a million stars are burning,  
Planetariums were right about the sky…**

**Once upon the day I set off on the journey,  
Wishing on the wind take me far from home  
Now I'm on the waves, and I'm taking on water, Hard to see I won't always be alone**…

Something, he doesn't know what, wakes him.

Tilting his head, he stares at the numbers of the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. He waits impatiently for his eyes to focus in the dimly lit room.

4:38 a.m. Bosco sighs. Three hours of sleep and he'll be good for nothing the rest of the day.

He used to be able to stay up all night and still be able to pull a 16 hour shift. Only three years ago, he was doing just that.

Bosco shuts his eyes as his mind drifts back to those weeks after 9/11 – he and so many others had worked tirelessly down at the Pile. The sounds and smells of that time are forever in the back of his mind.

It had really messed him up at the time; of course, it had messed up a lot of people. But the panic attacks were a complete loss of control, and that shook him.

He remembers sitting on Faith's coffee table, unable to help himself as he broke down right there inside her apartment. She'd saved him that night.

She always saves him.

**There was a time when August sun was high and centered on me,  
But it dipped behind my back and settled down  
Used to square up to the land, used to size it in my hand,  
But it fell behind the line that meets the sky…**

Suddenly his mind is assaulted with another memory, and his breath quickens with the intensity of the flashback.

* * *

_He is standing on the curb, covered in sweat and dust, breathing shallowly to keep himself from coughing. His lungs feel like they are filled with glass, but no matter how often he coughs, a deep, grating sound, they won't clear. _

_He stands there, staring at the carnage of twisted steel and debris, and he feels lost. _

_For a moment, he's sure he's having an out-of-body experience, because he can see himself. _

_He looks like a ghost, all covered in white dust, and there's blood all over the right side of his face. Right. That's from where he ran into a building – ran because he was afraid. He ran and left all these people here…._

_He's jolted from his thoughts by the sounds of a woman's hysterical screams. _

_He doesn't realize he's moved until he's bending next to her. Her dress is torn, blood covering the lower half of her business suit, and there's something metal sticking out of her side. _

_"P-p-please h-h-help me," she gasps, clinging to him with all of her strength. _

"_Okay…it's gonna be okay," he says automatically, then scoops her up in his arms, intent on finding the nearest ambulance. It's all he can do. _

_He wanders the street, passing so many people, covered in blood, dust, and sweat. He sees men and women crying, some clutching at each other, others screaming, a few praying out loud. He sees motionless bodies, some crushed by debris. _

_He passes a car that is on fire, a building with the windows blown out, all these people…all this chaos, and there's not a thing he can do. _

_He finally spots an ambulance parked next to the curb, the paramedics treating the few people who've already found their way to the bus. _

"_I need some help here," he calls out hoarsely, choking down the urge to cough. _

_One of the medics rushes over, and helps Bosco lay the woman flat on the ground. _

"_Help her," Bosco pleads. But after only a moment, the medic stands and turns away. _

"_Where're you going?" He asks, confused. _

"_She's dead," the paramedic responds, her voice emotionless. He can see the same horror he feels churning in his gut reflected in her eyes. "Gotta help the living." _

_

* * *

_"Bosco…Bosco!" Faith is calling him, shaking him gently.

He shoots up into a sitting position, shrugging her off. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, why she's here. Absently, he looks down at his hands, which are visibly shaking.

He can still taste the devastation of that moment, bitter on his tongue.

"Damn."

"What? Are you okay? Bad dream?"

He hasn't suffered from panic attacks in three years, but he'll never forget what one feels like.

This one wasn't as bad as it could have been, but he's frustrated that it even happened at all.

He'd already dealt with this – he thought he beat it. Yet it's the third time since the shooting he's woken up in a cold sweat, heart racing, hands shaking.

It's just another setback – one more thing that shows he's not the man he once was. One more thing that bastard Mann took from him.

"I'm fine," he answers softly, unable to keep the defeat out of his voice.

"No, you're not," she responds, placing a hand on his back.

**Inside this storm, whipping in the wind,  
My sail is torn, in other words, The ends are never not my own  
Hard to see I won't always be alone…**

"Panic attacks are back," he finally admits, his voice hauntingly quiet in the silence of the room.

He hears the rustle of sheets as she moves up to sit next him, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

"Well, you know…it's understandable. I mean, you were gunned down in the middle of a hospital," she says lightly, trying to make him feel better without patronizing him.

He shakes his head slowly and closes his eyes.

"I'm tired, Faith," he whispers, and she knows he's talking about more than mere fatigue.

She bites her lip to keep the tears at bay, struck by how vulnerable he's being with her. It's been a long time since he's let her in; so long since he's trusted her be there for him.

Words can't fix this, and she's not sure if anything can, so she just puts an arm around his shoulders in a silent gesture of comfort.

He leans into her, eyes still closed, and the minutes pass as she listens to his breaths even out.

"'M gonna fall 'sleep," he eventually mumbles with a groan, and she smiles sadly, shifting her body to the side so he can lie down again.

As she takes her place beside him once more, she watches him sleep, thinking about how much he's been through the past few years.

Her heart grieves for him, and she remains motionless so as not to wake him as the tears roll down her cheeks.

**On a sailboat I am, slowly floating nowhere,  
Hoping someday I wash up, on someone else's shore…**

She's never been much of a pray-er, that had been Fred's territory, but she prays now.

Here in the dimly lit bedroom, in the helplessness of the dawn, when the future seems so bleak and her partner so broken, the words squeeze silently out of her heart, and she prays for him.

'_God please…he tries so hard….'_

'_He's been through so much…so much pain….'_

'_I don't know if I can help him. I don't know if anyone can, except maybe You….'_

'_Please…he deserves something good in his life….'_

It's as far as she gets before sleep overtakes her.

* * *

**A/N**: If you would be so kind…please review. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: This may be the last chapter I can get out before the New Year, at least for this story. I have finals to get through and Christmas is right around the corner. Hope everyone has safe and happy holidays.

**Warning**: This chapter deals with dark subject matter and the subject of suicide. While it is not graphic, if this in anyway bothers you, please don't read.

I'm just following the muse wherever it takes me.

**Disclaimer**: The song is not mine, nor the characters.

**Chapter 3**: Rock Bottom

* * *

Bosco wakes a second time to the sound of the shower. It's 9:48 a.m.

'_Faith must be using my shower,'_ he thinks, then suppresses a brief feeling of awkwardness as he rolls out of bed. Nothing was awkward about last night.

'_It's only awkward if you make it awkward,'_ he tells himself. Faith was there for him last night, and this morning she is using his shower. Simple as that.

Groaning softly at the throbbing pain of still-healing muscles, he pads out to the kitchen and rummages through a drawer until he finds a bottle of painkillers. He pops two in his mouth, then opens the fridge and pulls out a half-gallon of milk, tipping his head back and drinking straight from the carton.

It is this sight that greets Faith when she steps out of the bathroom, wet hair clinging to her neck, clad in the same clothes as the night before.

"Geez, Bos, remind me never to drink anything out of your fridge," she comments dryly, scrubbing furiously at her hair with a towel.

He turns around and pulls the carton away from his lips, face twisted into a comical look of confusion.

"What? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. I just wouldn't want to drink your backwash."

"Backwash?" He retorts, mockingly indignant, then points at the milk carton. "This is my breakfast!"

"You call chugging a half-carton of milk breakfast?" Her eyebrows raise in the familiar expression she gets when she's teasing him, and it takes a lot of effort for him to hide his smile. He needs this banter, this normalcy.

"You know what?" he shoots back with an exaggerated frown. "I don't need to justify my eating habits to you."

"No, but you may need to justify the state of this bathroom," she says cheekily, her body disappearing into the bathroom again.

"What?" His eyes squint as he tries to keep up with her quick wit.

"Your shower, Bos – it's disgusting," she calls. "When's the last time you cleaned it?"

"Hey, you didn't have to use it. You could've gone around all day stinky."

Her head peeks out from inside the doorway to the bathroom, her face alight with amusement.

"Stinky?" She repeats flatly.

Bosco gives her an exasperated look.

"Yeah. Stinky." Then stares as she dissolves into a fit of laughter.

He shakes his head and smiles, unable to fathom what she finds so hilarious, but nonetheless caught up in her infectious giggles.

"I'd offer you something to eat, but my cupboards are pretty bare," he says, changing the subject as she dips back into his bathroom.

He walks over to the couch and plops down, deftly grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV.

"It's okay, I gotta run back to my place anyway. Run some errands before work," she says, walking hurriedly out into the kitchen and grabbing her purse.

"You wanna ride? I could drive you," he offers expectantly.

She blinks. "Bos, you can't drive while you're on that pain medication, you know that."

'_Oh. Right.'_ He recovers quickly, plastering a grin on his face.

"Right…it was just a joke."

He hates being told that he can't do something. Briefly, he is tempted to tell her that he's already driven his car around the city a few times while on the meds, and with no problems, but realizes the wisdom of keeping that particular nugget of information to himself.

Faith just nods, letting it slide.

"You gonna be alright while I'm gone? I'll come by again after work."

"Faith, you don't have to –"

"But I am. So order a pizza or something. Okay?"

And she's out the door before he can respond or argue.

* * *

He does order a pizza, and she shows up outside his door promptly at 11:45 p.m.

"Hey," he greets as she walks in and takes off her coat. "How was it?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Uneventful. No leads."

"Sounds pretty boring."

"It's quite the change of pace," she admits, flipping open the top of the pizza box to grab a slice.

"You can have whatever's left," Bosco says, slumping into the chair across from her. "I ate already."

"You did?" Her head shoots up, and when their eyes meet he can't read her expression. Thinking maybe she'd wanted him to wait, he ducks his head.

"Uh, yeah, sorry I didn't wait. I was hungry and…had to take something with the pills, you know…."

"Oh, no…no, that's not it. It's fine, really," she stammers, resuming her task of pulling pizza slices a part.

It's not that she wanted him to wait. It's that she looked inside the pizza box and realized he'd only eaten three slices. Before the shooting…half the box would have gone. Obviously, his appetite is still far from what it used to be – it's just one more thing, one more painful reminder. And she has no idea how she'd explain to it to him, the sadness that overtook her upon opening the lid of the pizza box. And she's almost positive that it would have only hurt him to say it out loud, so she keeps it to herself, like she has so many times before.

It's the little things that get her. The way he walks – he shuffles now, she can tell. It's almost imperceptible, but she can tell. He drags his feet and shuffles, when he used to bounce and sway.

He even talks slower, softer – and she knows it's from more than the damage the bullet did to his neck.

His ego's been blown to pieces. His brother's gruesome murder, along with the shooting and subsequent recovery, has humbled Bosco like nothing else could.

He's mortal now, having finally been knocked down off his pedestal. And though deep down she knows it's probably for the best, she can't help that it pains her.

The ghost of what once was still haunts her, having tainted seemingly every aspect of her life. The shooting roughly separated her life into 'before' and 'after', probably because so many horrible things happened at once. Bosco's brother murdered, Fred's affair, and then the shooting…she wonders, not for the first time, when things will go back to normal. When even the simplest day-to-day activities don't reminder her of what was lost.

"So what did you do all day?" She asks abruptly.

"I went down to the range," he replies. "Did some more practicing."

"Yeah? Any change?"

"I actually hit the target enough times to re-qualify," he tells her, but doesn't make eye contact.

"Well, what about your vision?" She asks, treading carefully.

"I think I can work with it, you know? I just have to compensate whenever it gets blurry."

It's not good enough. And he knows it.

"But it's still blurry?" She says, more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, but I just said I can work with it," he replies, voice tinted with impatience. This time he meets her eyes, and they are filled with a warning. He doesn't want her to push him on this.

She remains silent, but he can tell by the hard set of her jaw that she's not pleased.

"You don't believe me? I got the targets right here," he states defensively, standing and heading over to his gym bag. He quickly pulls out the rolled up targets, then turns to face her with a scowl.

"Bosco…."

"No – here, we'll both look at 'em," he says, rolling open the targets in front of her.

He stops when she lifts her head, her eyes wide and round and filled with compassion.

"I just think it's too soon. Bosco…I think it's too soon. That's all," she tells him softly.

He stares at her for a long moment, the emotions waging hard inside of him. Then he turns and walks toward his bedroom.

"Bosco…."

Her only response is the sound of a slamming door.

Tired of waiting for him to face the truth, she gets up and leaves an hour later.

* * *

**Please come now, I think I'm falling;**

**I'm holding on to all I think is safe**

**It seems I found the road to nowhere,**

**And I'm trying to escape **

**I yelled back when I heard thunder, **

**But I'm down to one last breath,**

**And with it let me say, let me say...**

**

* * *

**_He's back in uniform for the first time in months, and it feels good. He tells himself that this is the answer, that once he gets back on the streets everything will fall back into place. He convinces himself that being back on the streets will be the cure to the vision problems and the panic attacks – it's just mind over matter._

_Everything's fine in the beginning. He easily falls back into the old routine. He's partnered back up with Monroe – and even though she isn't Faith, he welcomes the familiarity. _

_They are called to a disturbance at a local pharmacy. Apparently a man had no insurance to fill a prescription for epilepsy medication needed for his son. He and Monroe secure the area, then try to talk the agitated man into leaving quietly. _

_He keeps getting louder and louder, his voice ringing around the inside of Bosco's throbbing head._

_Monroe reaches for the man's arm, and suddenly he sees the glint of metal. The man has pulled a gun. _

_Instantly both officers have their own guns trained on the man, yelling at him to drop the weapon. _

_Bosco is sweating. He hasn't had to pull his gun yet since he's been back on. Now is not the time to screw up, but he's had a headache all day and his vision is fuzzy. His breath quickens, and a wave of dizziness hits him as his headache intensifies. 'Can't screw up…gotta back up my partner….'_

_An image of his father appears before him, an angry finger pointed in his face. "Pull yourself together, Maurice! Quit being a damn pussy!" _

_The image fizzles out, and now he sees Monroe struggling with the man, trying to get the gun. He gets her in a choke hold, and Monroe looks at him with wild eyes. "Shoot him! Just shoot him!" _

_He lifts his gun, aims for the man's forehead, and…BAM!_

_No…he can't open his eyes, but he hears the man laughing…laughing and running away. Without looking, he knows he made a horrible mistake.  
_

_Monroe is dead. He killed Monroe. He killed a police officer, and it might as well have been a member of his own family. _

_He was stupid…so stupid…it's all his fault…._

_He opens his eyes to stare down at her lifeless body, watching in horror as it morphs into the dismembered corpse that was his brother. _

_Suddenly there's blood…so much blood everywhere…angry faces…and guilt…so much guilt…._

_

* * *

_Bosco is jolted awake by his own screams.

His face is covered in sweat and tears, and it takes him a while to get his breathing back to normal, to realize it was just a dream.

But the guilt…the guilt is overpowering, and he can still feel it.

With trembling fingers, he reaches for the phone next to his bed and dials the number he knows by heart.

She answers on the fourth ring, and he immediately feels bad for waking her.

"_Hello?"_

"…Faith…." His voice is low and weighted with emotion.

"_Bos? Bos…what's wrong?" _

"I don't know what to do anymore…I just…."

She waits for him to finish, then listens worriedly to his heavy breathing through the phone when he doesn't.

"_Bos, just hold on. I'm coming over."_ He can hear the fear in her voice.

"No, s'okay. I just…I had to hear your voice, I guess."

"_Bosco, what's going on?"_

"'M sorry for calling."

"_Bos, wait – "_

He hangs up before she can finish.

* * *

**Hold me now, **

**I'm six feet from the edge, and I'm thinking, **

**Maybe six feet, ain't so far down...**

**

* * *

**He sits on the edge of his bed staring at the phone for what seems like forever, his mind empty of thoughts.

He can't shake the guilt from the dream.

Finally, a memory comes to mind, and the raw clarity of it hits him hard.

"_I oughta shoot you before you screw up the lives of everyone that loves you."_

His own thoughts provide a reply: _'Too late, Glenny. Too late.'_

The guilt rises in his chest again, constricting his airway and morphing into a mix of self-hatred and resolve.

And suddenly, the answer is very clear.

Dazedly, he gets up and walks out to the kitchen, reaching in the drawer and pulling out his bottle of painkillers. He walks over to the table and sits down, setting the pills in front of him.

He has to make it look like an accidental overdose, for his mother's sake.

Absently, he wonders how many it would take. Flipping the lid off of the bottle, he spills a handful of pills out onto the table, spreading them out with the bottom of his hand.

Then he hears the knock at the door, and freezes.

"Bosco? Bosco, it's me. Open up!" It's Faith.

"Bosco, if you don't open up I'm gonna have to use my key!"

She's pounding now, but he just sits there, unable to move or speak.

He hears her fiddling with the lock before the door opens, and she steps inside.

She stops short, mouth agape, when she sees him at the table.

He doesn't try to hide it, just stares at her, his face reflecting desperation, remorse, and a hint of shame.

She is assaulted by a barrage of emotions as it quickly dawns on her what he was about to do, and she's filled with a righteous fury.

She stands in front of him, and for a moment he thinks she is going to cry.

Instead, she swings her arm back and slaps him. _Hard._ So hard that it nearly knocks him out of his chair.

"You selfish son of a bitch!" She rasps angrily, breathing heavily from the raging emotions.

He brings a hand back to wipe his mouth, where he tastes blood, and a red, angry streak of it stains his fingers.

But he still has that glazed-over look in his eyes, and she resists the urge to shake him.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she demands, and he doesn't want hit again, so he tells her.

"I can't be responsible anymore."

"Responsible for what? Bosco, talk to me."

"You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't…you know what? You're damn right I don't understand!" And she gestures angrily at the pills before swiping them off of the table with the back of her arm.

Bosco watches passively as they skitter across the tiles.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I upset you," he says after a moment, and his voice sounds so regretful that it washes away her anger.

She sighs. "Stand up."

Wordlessly, she grabs his arm and leads him into the bathroom, where he sits on the toilet seat as she runs a washcloth under cold water.

He winces when the cold cloth touches his lip, and her eyes soften.

"I'm sorry I hit you."

"I don't blame you," he replies honestly, his eyes having finally lost their dazed expression.

He's back with her, and she decides to take advantage of his lucidity.

She pulls away to lean against the sink. "Why? I mean…what possessed you to even think…?"

"I had a dream. About being back on the force. I was on patrol with Monroe, and this guy pulled a gun. And I wasn't ready, Faith." He looks up at her helplessly before continuing.

"Messed up vision, headaches…and I was panicking, right there in the middle of a disturbance. And he's got her in a choke hold, but she keeps yelling for me to shoot him."

He pauses, swallowing convulsively. "So I shot. And I killed her, Faith. I killed Monroe."

* * *

**I'm looking down, now that it's over,**

**Reflecting on all of my mistakes**

**I thought I found the road to somewhere,**

**Somewhere in His grace**

**I cried out, 'heaven save me,'**

**But I'm down to one last breath**

**And with it let me say, let me say…**

**

* * *

**"Bosco, it was just a dream," Faith says softly, kneeling down in front of him.

"No. It was more than that. I _felt _it. I felt the guilt. It was just like…." he trails off, voice cracking.

"Just like what?" She prompts him, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

"…Just like when Mikey died," he whispers, eyes filling with tears. "It was so real, Faith. And it was all my fault."

She hugs him then. Leaning awkwardly on one knee, braced against his toilet, she holds him tightly.

"It wasn't your fault, Bosco. None of it was your fault." He nods his head against her, but she knows he doesn't really believe it.

Closing her eyes, she can't stop the tears from falling.

"Please promise me you won't ever do that again," she whispers shakily next to his ear.

"I promise."

She pulls back to meet his eyes, judging his sincerity.

"Faith, if it's one thing I'm serious about, it's keeping my word. I promise."

"Promise you'll call me if you ever feel like that again."

"I _did_ call you."

"Then promise you'll wait for me."

"I'll wait for you," he repeats tiredly.

She puts a hand under his chin, examining his face. "How's your mouth?"

"It stings. You hit hard," he says lightly.

Her own lips pull into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and she leans forward to kiss him on the forehead before resting her head briefly against his.

"I don't want to lose you," she whispers. "Understand?"

He nods. "I promise."

* * *

"I want you to make an appointment with your neurologist, to tell her what's been going on," she tells him later that night as they lie next to each other in his bed.

"Faith…"

"Bosco, after tonight, you owe me," she replies sternly.

He's quiet for a long time.

Then, "Will you go with me?"

She reaches over to squeeze his hand, her eyes shining in the dark.

"Absolutely."

* * *

**Sad eyes follow me,**

**But I still believe there's something left for me**

**So please come stay with me,**

**'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me**

**For you and me,**

**For you and me…**

**Hold me now,**

**I'm six feet from the edge, and I'm thinking…**

**-Creed, 'One Last Breath**

* * *

**A/N**: I promise better days are around the corner for Bosco, just wait and see. In the meantime, please review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: No, I have not abandoned this story. :)

Sorry it took so incredibly long. Blame law school – I do.

Shout out to WIWJ - thanks for letting me randomly PM you talk over ideas for this fic, even if it has been awhile. :P

**Warning**: Spoilers for "In the Family Way" and "Kingpin Rising"

I did something a little different this time. Faith's thoughts are in _italics_. Bosco's are in brackets. I couldn't think of another way to do it.

The chapter is a little long, but if you hold out for the end, I guarantee you'll be surprised. ;)

Thank you to all my reviewers – you keep me going!

**Chapter 4**: Same Story, Different Song

* * *

She almost doesn't see him. If she would have left the office just seconds earlier, she would have missed his entrance entirely.

But she doesn't miss him – she sees him, large as life, shaking hands with Lieutenant Swersky down by the front desk.

She walks tentatively over to the railing at the top of the stairs, the file folder in her hand momentarily forgotten as her eyes bore holes into the side of Bosco's head. It's a sight for sore eyes to see him here, looking relatively healthy and whole, standing in the precinct house ribbing their boss just like old times. Just like nothing has changed. It's something she barely thought possibly months before – and she might be able to smile, if it weren't so wrong.

"I leave for a few months; you let the whole place go to hell?" She hears Bosco taunt. God how she missed this, how she'd hoped and prayed for this moment.

"You tryin' to piss me off the first two minutes—?"

"No, I'll hold that for tomorrow," Bosco retorts cheekily. "I'll be up in the locker room."

Realizing that Bosco is turning toward the stairs, a casual greeting forms on her lips. They haven't spoken to each other in a week, though she's left numerous messages on his voicemail. He's effectively shut her out of his life. And it's here, in this moment, that she feels the pain. Because this should be _her_ moment, too.

Bosco wasn't the only one who had fought death on that cold hospital tile so many months ago. She'd fought it too, and she has her own battle scars.

This should be their moment – together. But it's not. Because it's _wrong_.

"Hey Bosco." It's quiet, almost fearful, and she's saved from watching his reaction to her presence by Lieu's interruption.

"Hey Faith! Guess who just got put back to full duty?"

'_Full duty? What. The. Hell?' _

[Faith's poorly schooled reaction is not lost on Bosco, who is surreptitiously watching her out of the corner of his eye. He watches as her face pales ever-slightly, the corners of her mouth tipping down into the barest of frowns as a blank look of incomprehension fills her hazel eyes.]

"Well, good to see ya," Bosco mumbles, shaking Swersky's hand before making a hasty exit. "I'll go get my gear ready."

'_Gear? Ready? How did this happen? How could she have missed this?'_

[Emotion begins to rise up in him – guilt, panic, desperation, fear – and he fights with himself to ignore it, to banish it from himself. Those emotions will only make him weak, and Bosco is damned if he'll be weak any longer. So he ignores the war raging inside of him, focusing all his energy on avoiding Faith's probing eyes at the top of the stairs. One foot in front of the other. Maybe if he ignores it long enough, it'll go away…_she_ will go away.]

"Welcome back, Bosco," Swersky calls after him.

A chill runs down Faith's spine, and she flinches involuntarily.

'_Welcome back, Bosco.'_ It should be music to her ears. Instead, it feels like somebody dropped an anvil in the pit of her stomach. She feels sick.

At the top of the stairs, Bosco pushes past her without acknowledgment.

'_He doesn't want to face me,'_ she thinks, knowing that it is the truth.

It's the disbelief that drives her to follow him back into the locker room.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"So you're coming back?" _'Tell me this isn't what I think it is.'_

"Tomorrow."

A one-word answer. He's shutting her out, again.

"Good…that's good." _'This is very, very bad.'_

"Yeah." Quick, breathless, and he won't meet her questioning gaze.

"So you re-qualified?" _'So you didn't listen to damn word I said.'_

"Yep," comes the terse reply.

She can tell by his jerky movements that she's making him uncomfortable, but it's hard to be sympathetic after everything he's done.

He still won't look at her, but she won't give up so easy. Slowly, she eases down onto the bench next to him, her disbelief and concern masking the anger smoldering just underneath.

"How?" _'Be straight with me, Bosco….'_

"I hit the target enough times," he says, throwing her own well-worn words back at her.

After every re-qualification down through the years, he would always ask her how she did, and she'd always shrug and say, "I hit the target enough times," and they'd laugh about it.

She's not laughing now.

"No, I mean what, are your eyes suddenly feeling better?"

'_You know, maybe I wouldn't have to ask if, heaven forbid, you'd have answered the damn phone one of the hundred times I called….'_

He freezes, cornered, then tries to dodge the oncoming bullet.

"You're gonna give me grief, now?"

"No, I'm not giving you grief, now; Bosco, you told me you couldn't see the target." It's an accusation, and her words come out in a rush of barely-controlled anger.

"I never said that."

"Yes, you did. And you asked me to shoot for you." _'And for god's sake - just a few days ago you were ready to OD on your pain medication….'_

[He can't help but notice that she's still got a tight leash on her anger. Before he was shot, she'd be tearing into him by now. She still treats him like fragile glass, and that makes him feel weak. Faith needs to learn that he isn't fragile, anymore, he reasons. This isn't the hospital, and he's not broken anymore. He's going to show her that he's the same hard-assed SOB he's always been, bound and determined to get her off of his back. His hackles are up. He _needs_ her to go away, lest he become weak again. So he strikes without mercy, even though it pains him. The words that roll off his tongue are swift and harsh – he knows how to get his message across.]

"Don't you have anything to do, _detective_?"

The snide retort matches the clear dismissal in his stormy eyes and his tone takes her off guard.

"What?"

"Big, NYPD detective…I figured you'd be up to your ass in paperwork."

It's clearly an insult, coming from him. If she wasn't pissed before, she's furious now.

"Yeah, I got plenty to do," she says, irked by his brush-off. _'_

_Yeah, I got plenty to do, and yet I'm taking time to sit here with you and make sure you're alright. What do I get for it? I get insulted.'_

"Great, then why don't you leave me alone so I can get my stuff ready."

"I'll do that." _'Ass.'_

She misses the regret in eyes as he watches her walk out the door.

[Perhaps the greatest irony of all, he realizes, is that in hurting her, he only manages to wound himself.]

* * *

It's been more than week since he asked her to shoot for him.

A week since she walked into his apartment to find him on the brink of self-destruction.

A week since he promised her he'd make an appointment with his neurologist…and a week since Faith woke up in Bosco's bed, alone.

In that time, he hadn't answered any of her calls, giving her no explanation for his disappearance. She'd gotten caught up in work, the worry for him bouncing around the back of her mind. She was hurt, angry, and scared.

He lied to her, again. He'd broken his promise.

And now he's been assigned to full duty?

He's not ready. She knows it, and somewhere deep down, Bosco knows it, too. What kills her is that she has no idea what to do about it.

Late that night, as she sits alone in her apartment, a lone thought assaults her mind, sending chills down her spine.

She doesn't want to admit it at first, but it's too clear of an image for her to ignore.

The department is doing the same thing to Bosco that they did with Glen Hobart – letting an unfit cop back on the force until he either snaps under the pressure, or worse.

She'll be damned if Bosco is going to end up like Hobart.

Her thumb traces over a photo in her hand. It's an old picture of them together, taken from their Police Academy graduation.

'_God, were they ever that young?'_

Bosco had refused to smile for it, trying to act all macho in front of the camera and their fellow cadets. She had found his attempts to look 'badass' hilarious, barely able to contain her sputters of laughter for the photo. He hadn't been fooling her, his happiness and self-pride evident in the ease of his facial expression.

For the past ten years, his friendship has meant everything, and she has to stop and ask herself whether or not it's worth doing this if it means she'll lose him.

A moment passes – half of a heartbeat.

She's surprised that the decision is an easy one. She loves him too much to let her selfishness take precedence over his well-being.

'_I don't care if you hate me, Bosco,' _she thinks, quelling the tears that threaten to overwhelm her. _'I only care that you're safe.'_

Her mind is made up. She won't let this go.

She finds Vince's number in her little black address book, picks up the phone, and calls.

* * *

The next day, Bosco's back on the beat, and Faith all but forgets about her investigation as they try to track down 'vampires'.

She and Bosco actually manage civil conversation, and in his own way, he asks her forgiveness.

"You're good at this." [I'm sorry.]_  
_

Faith doesn't miss a beat. "Fooled ya'." _'I'm not keeping score, Bos.'_

Still, "it" hangs over their heads like a dark cloud.

* * *

They're in the hospital, and she can see him at the desk, leaning over to sign some forms. His nose is nearly touching the paper, and it's obvious that he's struggling to see.

Faith's heart skips a beat. _'Oh my god, his sight is __that__ bad?'_

"Hey. You alright?" She reaches a gentle hand across the desk, her fingertips just brushing against his knuckles.

"Fine…s'just the damn print…it's so small…." It's a weak excuse, and she and Sully share a quick, knowing look over Bosco's bent head.

Later, when she demands to know why the older officer didn't say anything, she isn't shocked by his answer – just disappointed.

"You were riding with him, Sully…when were you going to say something?"

She keeps her voice low in the locker room, but her eyes flash with anger.

"Look, the guy's been through hell, Faith. He kicked and clawed his way from death's door just to be back on the force, and after all that I sure as hell am not gonna be the one to tell him that he doesn't deserve to be here!"

"It's not about what he deserves, Sully – he can't see!"

"Lots of guys have poor eyesight, Faith," Sully scoffs. "It's no reason to take three-quarters."

"He's not ready to be back," she hisses, burning with righteous indignation.

Sully throws up his hands, exasperated.

"Look, this is between you and Bosco. Leave me out of it."

"And if it gets him, killed?"

"He had trouble reading a form, Faith! Hell, tell him to get a pair of eyeglasses!"

"You don't understand." She shakes her head. "He's not ready to be back."

"Look, you need to work it out with him. I don't need involved in you and Bosco's drama."

He slams his locker shut, sparing her a withering glance as he pushes past her.

Clearly, this conversation is over.

She knows it's not unnatural for police officers to hold their wounded veterans in high regard, even to the point of hero-worship. She's seen it before. In fact, Bosco had once been blinded to Glen Hobart's troubles for that very reason – and it almost got him killed. The hero-worship is understandable…but it's also very dangerous.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that what she is doing is likely to destroy their relationship; Bosco will not understand that she's only trying to help, and he will take it as a betrayal of the worst kind.

It's a high price to pay, but Bosco is worth it.

* * *

Faith is sitting on the couch, watching the end credits of _Troy_ with her daughter when the phone rings.

Emily simultaneously makes a crack about Brad Pitt's butt, and Faith smiles as she pulls the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?"

"_Faith?" _

It's Bosco, sounding breathless and uncharacteristically unhinged. Her smile vanishes.

"Bos?"

"_You gotta come over. You gotta come over, right now."_

"Bosco, just tell me what's wrong," Faith responds, her face scrunched up in concern.

"_I can't. I can't just…please come over? Please, Faith. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."_

She reaches up to scratch her forehead, then lets out a long-suffering sigh.

In spite everything, she can't say no to him.

"Okay. I'll be there in ten."

She hangs up, and then stands to pull on her shoes and coat.

"Everything okay?" Emily asks, concerned by her mother's hurried movements.

"Emily – I am so sorry, sweetheart. Bosco's having some sort of crisis," she flicks her hand in an exasperated gesture, "and I have to run over there. We can talk about the movie later, okay?"

"Okay," Emily replies with a nod. "Tell Bosco I said 'hi'."

"I will," Faith promises, kissing Emily's head.

"Keep the door locked," she calls as she leaves; an unnecessary reminder.

* * *

All Faith can think about as she rushes up the stairs to Bosco's apartment is the last time she was here, when she found him with the pills.

She'd made him promise if he ever felt that low again, that he'd call her and wait for her.

His desperation over the phone left a lump in her throat; her pace quickens.

She knocks on his door only once before it is flung open, and she at once notices Bosco's disheveled appearance.

"Faith! Thank God!"

He grabs her hand excitedly, yanking her back into the apartment.

"Bosco – what the hell is the matter with you?" She cries, stumbling after him.

She is pulled toward the couch, and stops short as Bosco releases her suddenly.

She has to blink several times before she can believe what she is seeing.

"Bosco…." She raises her finger to point, her mouth formed in an 'o'.

"That's a baby."

He exhales harshly, flustered, and nods. "I know."

"There's a baby on your couch."

"I – I know, Faith."

She blinks several more times, staring in confusion and shock at the pink bundled baby lying asleep in a simple gray carrier on the couch.

Next to her, Bosco paces restlessly.

"Say somethin'," he demands.

"Is she yours?"

He gives her one of his death glares, and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Okay…well. That answers that question." She pauses. "Where did she come from, then?"

Bosco sighs, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

"Look we can talk about that later. Right now, I need you to do something for me."

Her brow furrows in concern. "Sure, what?"

"I need you to…you know…." he makes a vague gesture toward the child.

"Bosco, I'm not a mind reader," Faith tells him dryly.

"Can't you smell that?" He asks in frustration.

"Smell wha—oh."

"Yeah. It stinks. I can't think with it smellin' up the place like this."

Faith has to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

"Bosco. Tell me you didn't call me over here to change a diaper," she says, trying to sound angry and failing miserably.

His expression changes to one of helplessness. "Please, Faith. Please. You gotta help me. I don't know what to do."

Hysterical laughter bursts out of Faith's mouth before she can stop it, and she has to bend over to relieve some of the strain on her ribs.

"Oh that's right. Laugh it up. Faith, this is serious," Bosco says irritably, but the corners of his mouth are turned up ever slightly, and there is no force behind his words.

Faith wipes the tears from her eyes with her fingers, then walks over to look down at the baby.

The child appears healthy, with a round face, delicate bone structure and long eyelashes. Thin strands of light brown hair curl around her ears and neck. Faith figures she can't be more than six months old.

"Poor thing. Having _you_ as a babysitter."

"This isn't funny, Faith. Are you just gonna leave her sitting there in her own sh—?"

"Do you even have any diapers?" She interrupts before he can finish.

He hefts up a light blue bag that had been sitting next to the couch and all-but shoves it at her.

"I don't know what's in there, but I'm assuming it's baby stuff."

Faith zips it open and rummages around for a diaper, wipe-ems, and baby powder.

With the experience of a mother, she gently lifts the sleeping baby out of the carrier and lays her flat on the couch, carefully undoing the purple jumper.

"Now you're gonna watch me do this, Bosco, because I am not coming over here every time she needs a change."

He just nods, eyes wide.

"I can't believe you've never changed a diaper before," she mutters as she works.

She slides off the dirty diaper, and Bosco gags at the smell. "Oh, my god…."

"Come on, you've smelt worse on the job," Faith teases, smiling at his discomfort.

"I can't believe something so small and innocent looking can make a smell like that – ugh – my apartment's gonna smell like shit for a week."

"Stop being so dramatic. It didn't smell great in here to begin with – are you watching this?" She asks, pulling the adhesive ends of the diaper closed.

Bosco swallows, looking pale. "I – uh…I might need you to show me a few more times."

Faith just rolls her eyes, scrubbing her hands clean with the wet wipe-em before carefully placing the baby back in the carrier.

"She's a quiet baby. You really lucked out."

She walks out to the kitchen and drops the offending diaper in the trash, then turns toward Bosco and crosses her arms, leaning against the counter behind her.

"Okay – what's going on, here? Where did she come from?"

Bosco slumps into a chair at the kitchen table, resting his forehead wearily on his palm.

"You're not gonna believe me when I tell you."

"Try me."

Bosco rubs a hand over his mouth anxiously before speaking.

"I heard a knock on my door this morning. I opened it up and it was just…sitting there."

Of all the explanations she expected him to give - that certainly was not one of them.

"What?" Faith frowns. "But…who's the mother?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know, Faith. Nobody was around. I didn't know what the hell to do, I mean – I couldn't just leave it there."

"Bosco, you have to call Child Services," Faith says in a tone that conveys her firm belief that he should have done this hours ago.

Bosco ducks his head, picking at a small hole in the knee of his jeans.

"I'm not so sure I want to do that."

Her face contorts in confusion. "What? Why not?"

When he looks at her again, his eyes hold a haunted expression, and his hands press together in front of him, palms rubbing nervously.

"Because I think it's Mikey's."

* * *

_TBC_…

**A/N**: Thoughts? Don't worry – Faith and Bosco will work out their issues…eventually.

P.S. - my mom always called them 'wipe-ems'. I honest-to-god have never heard of another name for them. Is there?


End file.
